


Nightmare

by MzyraJane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MzyraJane/pseuds/MzyraJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon was always plagued by the same nightmare in Winterfell...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

Theon Greyjoy first had the nightmare not long after he had arrived in Winterfell.

It was the dead of night, no moon to even try to give light through the thick branches of the strange, scary gnarled trees of the North. Theon was thick among them, and he knew that he was being pursued; footsteps crunching in the thick, cold snow. He was lost even to start with, and running desperately between the trees did nothing to aid him. He had to find the sea, if he ran enough in the right direction he would get there and be safe. So he ran and ran as the chilling air burned his mouth down to his lungs. But still the footsteps came. He tried to run faster, chancing a look back - before finally finding himself in front of one of those huge white weirwoods with a haunting, mocking face. For a moment he found himself frozen by its stare, but as the footsteps got louder he could tear his eyes away - only to find that the trees surrounding the small glade were too closely packed together to escape. There was only one way out, and from that way his pursuer entered.

Tall, grim Eddard Stark, his eyes dark and hardened to all sympathy. He pulled out his greatsword, made of so very, very sharp ice, glittering in the scarce light. Theon would beg and plead, even cry as Lord Stark approached with Ice in hand, but nothing Theon said could make any difference. Eddard Stark would still swing that sword-

And Theon would awaken, terrified, shaking and crying, but too afraid to seek comfort.

Over the years Theon learnt to calm himself swiftly, but for the first moment when he awoke he was always just as scared as the first time.

 

When the Prince of Winterfell had the nightmare, he knew that it worse from the beginning. There was more than one person tracking him, crunches over crunches, and he felt the cold terror run down to his stomach. He ran, as he always ran, until he was faced with the weirwood, though this time it looked angry; mouth wide like it meant to devour him. When he turned with dread to see his pursuers, Ned Stark was headless, flanked by two boys without faces. _The boys, the boys, he'd seen them killed and flayed-_ Again, he begged forgiveness, cried and pleaded, but of the boys, not Ned Stark. The boys had no faces to speak nor forgive, and Lord Stark would never give him his mercy, not when he'd _killed innocent Northern boys,_ so he swung the frozen sword-

It was all the worse for when he woke up, for deep down he suspected that he deserved it.

 

When Reek had the nightmare he knew it was fruitless, but he ran desperately through the woods anyway. It was bad, he was disobeying, trying to get away; he ought to stay and await them, or they would be so terribly angry. The anticipation made his fingers hurt, both the existing and missing ones. But he had started and he couldn't stop, so he ran and ran and ran, despite his terrible weakness. He never looked back, just continued to run- until he tripped over his clumsy maimed feet and landed in the snow. He looked up to see the weirwood, this time with large eyes and scarcely a mouth at all, just watching and staring back at him. Reek sat on his heels and awaited his pursuer, silent tears burning on his cheeks. Finally the footsteps approached him, and a violent shiver rippled through his body as a hand touched his shoulder. He turned to look, fearfully. And breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw headless Eddard Stark with his sword. He was here to end it finally. A clean death, better than Reek deserved. Reek leaned forward, exposing his neck to the blade and-

The hardest thing to deal with was the disappointment that the nightmare wasn't real.

 

When Theon had the nightmare he didn't run. He knew Lord Stark would be coming for him, but Theon had so much to tell him: _he'd saved her_ _! They'd flown! He knew his name!_ Theon was so happy.

Ned Stark never showed up. And when Theon turned around to look, confused, he found himself by the sea, with a weirwood staring out contentedly to the horizon. So Theon sat on the ground and joined it, watching the sun rise over the water until he woke up.


End file.
